


What Do You Care?

by songofhell



Series: What Do You Care? [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-29
Updated: 2016-02-29
Packaged: 2018-05-24 00:30:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6135268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songofhell/pseuds/songofhell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after 11x15, Sam and Dean get a surprise house guest, who causes the need for Dean to do some self-reflection on what exactly his feelings are for the once King of Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Do You Care?

Both Sam and Dean’s heads snapped up in surprise as a knock sounded at the bunker door.

“You don’t think...?” Dean started

“I can’t imagine Lucifer would knock,” Sam pointed out.

Dean gave a nod as he pulled out his gun. “Right.” He approached the door cautiously, gun aimed ahead, Sam following in a similar fashion. They stopped in front of the door, Dean motioning for Sam to stand back as he reached for the door knob and yanked it open.

“Crowley?” he gasped in surprise as the demon was revealed on the other side of the door. He immediately relaxed his stance, lowering his gun. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Surviving. Mind getting out of my way? I’d rather not be out in the open for any longer than necessary.”

“Hang on.” Sam stepped up to Dean’s side, further blocking Crowley’s entrance. “The demon that we just killed said that you're Lucifer’s bitch.”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed in irritation. “Outdated information. Now will you let me in before he finds me?”

The brothers shared a brief glance before Dean stepped aside and Sam followed suit.

“Thank you,” Crowley snapped as he walked in, shutting the door behind him.

“How’d you get away?” Dean asked, eyeing Crowley curiously.

“He underestimated me. Thought he could trick me. By the time he gained the upper hand again, I was gone.”

“Well, good. I’m assuming you’re here to help us stop him?”

“Obviously. I want my throne back.”

“And we’ll get it back.”

Crowley’s eyes darted up to catch Dean’s, a small smile forming on his lips. “I didn’t realize you cared.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I just want Lucifer gone.”

“Sure, you do.”

“Crowley,” Sam called his attention to him. “Do you have any information that would be of use?”

“Lucifer is looking for another Hand of God, he has all demons on it. He doesn’t have the power to kill Amara without one.” 

“We need to get our hands on one before he does,” Dean muttered.

“Already did. They’re rather short-lived, though.”

_“What?”_ Sam and Dean both snapped simultaneously.

“I had one in my storage locker. It’s how I gained the upper hand on Lucifer.”

“You didn’t hurt Cas, did you?” Sam demanded.

“No more than I hurt Lucifer,” Crowley said with a sigh. “Let me guess, you boys aren’t even going to consider killing the devil until we get him out of your angel’s body.”

“No way,” Dean confirmed.

“You do realize the risk of that? How unlikely-”

“We’re not killing Cas,” Sam reiterated firmly.

_“Fine._ But if we all die, it’s your fault.” He strode past Dean, further into the bunker. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’ve started purchasing good quality alcohol?”

“Nope,” Dean answered as they followed behind him.

Crowley sighed. “You know what? I’m so desperate for a drink, I don’t even care. I’ll take the best of whatever you’ve got.” He sunk down on a chair and looked up at the Winchesters expectantly.

Sam looked at him coolly before turning to Dean. “I’m tired. You want to deal with him?”

Dean ran a hand over his face. “Do I have a choice?”

“Thanks, man.” Sam clapped him on the back before walking down the hall, towards his room.

Dean glowered at Crowley before walking off to the kitchen, returning a minute later with two beers. “Here,” he muttered, handing one to Crowley as he took a seat across the table from him.

“Thanks.” He took a drink with a grimace. “That is disgusting.”

“I thought you didn’t care?” Dean arched an eyebrow at him over his beer as he took a drink.

“I don’t.” But his expression wasn’t any more pleased as he took a second drink.

“Lucifer must have really done a number on you.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Fine. I’m not asking you to. Besides, you’ll get him back soon enough, take back your throne.”

Crowley’s eyes were fixed on the table, an odd look in his eyes that Dean had never seen there before. It was almost... hopeless. “It won’t be that simple.”

“Why not?”

“He...” Crowley took a deep breath. “He made a spectacle of me in front of the other demons. Made me a laughingstock. They won’t be so keen to follow me, even with Lucifer gone.”

“So what?” Dean set the bottle down on the table as he leaned in slightly. “I bet they weren’t so keen on following some crossroads demon back when you first came to power. But you made them listen to you, and you’ll make them again, as soon as we get rid of Lucifer.”

Crowley’s eyes flicked up to him, the corners of his lips turning up slightly. “And I thought all you cared about was stopping Lucifer.”

“Yeah, well... I can’t deny how useful it is to have an in with the King of Hell.”

“You sure that’s all it is? Sure you don’t care a little bit about the demon who’s done so much for you?”

“Shut up and drink your beer.” He brought his own drink to his lips to cover up the grin that was forming there.

They drank in silence for a few minutes, before Dean set down his empty bottle and got to his feet. “You need anything else?”

“A place to stretch out and relax would be nice. I haven’t been allowed the most comfortable accommodations as of late.”

Dean nodded, motioning for the demon to follow him. “Come on.”

As much as Dean hated to admit it, he was feeling bad for Crowley. He tried to tell himself that it was just because he would feel bad for anyone subjected to torture by Satan himself, but... there was something else there, something that he didn’t want to look at too closely. What he did know was that he wanted to make it up to Crowley, he wanted to help him get past what had happened to him. His mind drifted to thoughts of his own memory foam mattress, and before the idea had fully formed in his mind, he was leading Crowley into his room.

“Um... Dean?” Crowley glanced around the room in confusion. “I thought you were taking me somewhere _I_  could relax.”

“Uh...” Dean cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I have a memory foam mattress.... You’ll be more comfortably here.”

Crowley’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re trying to get me into your bed? You could have just asked.”

“Not like that. I just figured you could use it more than me tonight.”

“And what about you?”

“What about me?”

“Where are you going to sleep?”

“Oh, I’m not really tired. There’s lots of research that needs to be done, anyway. We’ve got to find a Hand of God before Lucifer does.”

“Dean, you need to get some sleep.” Dean wasn’t sure if he was imagining things, but Crowley actually seemed to be concerned.

“I didn’t realize you cared,” Dean brushed the sensation off by mocking what Crowley had said before.

“Well, I do.”

They stared at each other for a minute before Dean coughed. “Very funny, Crowley. Now lay down and relax, would you?”

_“Fine._ Since you are clearly never going to believe me.” 

Dean’s eyes darted away, his mouth going dry as Crowley began stripping down to his boxers. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about the fact that you’d rather believe I’m making some kind of joke than come to terms with the fact that a demon honestly cares about you.” He climbed into bed, getting settled with a groan that Dean tried very hard to convince himself had no affect on him.

“I didn’t think demons _could_  care.”

“A common misconception. Demons were human once, and we are capable of all the emotions humans are capable of. The difference is, we can block them out more easily. But sometimes a demon will slip up and let caring and... _other_  pesky emotions through there block, and then there is rarely any going back.”

The corner of Dean’s mouth twitched up. “That why you’ve gone so soft?”

Crowley gazed at Dean with narrowed eyes. “It would appear so.”

Dean found himself at a loss for words. What could he say to that? That he cared too? He shouldn’t. Crowley was a _demon,_  the King of Hell, more or less, and he shouldn’t care about him, or... have any other feelings for him of that sort. But... what if he did? It wasn’t as if the sentiment wasn’t returned. That at least meant that Crowley wouldn’t take advantage of it, right? But he was still a demon.

“I should... let you rest.” He started to turn to the door.

“You know,” Crowley started in the tone that Dean knew meant that he had something up his sleeve. “this bed _is_  big enough for two people.”

Dean spun back around in disbelief. “You have got to be kidding me, Crowley.” He should leave right then, on principle, but instead he found himself staring at the demon, the back of his mind searching for some excuse to say yes.

Of course, him not leaving gave Crowley all of the information he needed to answer the unspoken question that he had been wondering about for some time. “It’s just... after being locked up alone for so long, it’d be nice to have some company.” He pulled his best innocent expression, which was not enough to fool Dean, but he had given him the excuse he needed.

Dean gave a small smile as he pulled the door shut and walked over to the bed. “Well, when you put it like that...” He stripped down to his boxers and a t-shirt and climbed into bed beside Crowley, who had rolled over to his side to face him. He turned his head to look at him, trying to ignore how close he was. “You know you’re not fooling me, right?”

Crowley smirked as he leaned in closer. “You know I’m not trying to, right?”

Dean rolled to his side, realizing his mistake when he found his face an inch away from Crowley’s. “What are you trying to do, then?”

“I’m giving you what you want.”

He could feel Crowley’s breath on his lips as he spoke and he was suddenly finding it rather difficult to breathe. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, accidentally flicking against Crowley’s as well. He sucked in a sharp breath as his eyes flitted down to Crowley’s lips, finding that he couldn’t look away. And suddenly Crowley’s hand was in his hair and he had closed the space between them. Dean’s arms wrapped around him as he returned the kiss, the part of his mind screaming that this was a bad idea effectively quieted by Crowley’s lips.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't feel like this is my best work, but I'm happy enough with it to publish. I am planning a sequel, which I'll hopefully be finishing shortly.


End file.
